


Make Them Dance Just Like You

by ArtsyAfrodite



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Clubbing, Dancing, Gallavich, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 10:01:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1644722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtsyAfrodite/pseuds/ArtsyAfrodite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was getting better every day now, making strides with his disorder.  And although he would never go back to dancing, he could enjoy this for now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make Them Dance Just Like You

“Can I buy you a drink later red?”

His skin crawled at the nickname Ned used to call him, the way it rolled off of the guy’s tongue less than appeasing.  He simply smiled, the fragment of what used to be like a memory within a memory.  Ian shook his head ‘no’ as continued to serve up drinks to the mess of men at the bar.  The guy flashed a grin, clearly disappointed Ian had turned down his offer, but way too smitten with the boy to be too upset.

“You sure?” the guy tried again.  He brushed his brown hair out of his face, his locks far too long for Ian’s taste.  His eyes were a greenish-hazel, nice Ian thought, but they were the wrong color.  He was a good looking guy, around twenty five, but the way his fingers danced on the bar as he waited in anticipation only reminded Ian that his knuckles were bare.

“I’m sure,” Ian responded as he wiped down an empty space at the bar where two guys had just moved.  He caught a flash of black out the corner of his eye, his heart catching it also.

“You used to be out there didn’t you?” the brown-haired guy asked, motioning his hand towards the dancers in the middle of the club floor. 

Ian looked out onto the floor as they all moved to the music perched atop their personal pedestals, dollar bills raining around them while their gold shorts glittered in the strobe lights.  The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk, the reminiscence of such a time playing in his mind as the beat banged against the walls.  “Used to be,” Ian responded as he threw the rag across his shoulder.

“I remember,” the guy said as he leaned across the bar, talking in what would be considered a whisper in a loud club as if sharing some great secret only he and Ian could know.  “You were good.”  Ian crossed him arms, bringing one of his hands to his chin as studied the guy’s face.  His fitted, black v-neck rose slightly above his pelvic bone, exposing just enough skin to practically make the guy salivate.  His eyes scanned over Ian’s body as he bit his bottom lip. 

“Don’t do that anymore,” Ian said he spotted a regular sit a few chairs down.  He nodded his head and began to make the older man’s usual, a gin and tonic.  He purposely removed his attention off of the brown haired guy in hopes he would get a move on.  He took the drink to the gentleman down the bar, and returned to his usual post, almost annoyed the guy was still there.

“But you were _really_ good,” he continued to badger.

“Yeah, he certainly was,” a familiar voice called out from behind the guy.  He sat down haphazardly at the bar next to Ian’s one man fan club, slamming his hands down on the counter.  Ian smiled as his eyes traced inked letters on the knuckles as they slowly formed fists.  Mickey raised an eyebrow at the guy as he quickly swiped a thumb across his bottom lip.  “Anything else you noticed about him?”

Ian blushed as he looked downward.  He raised his head back up, focusing his eyes on the jealous lines forming in Mickey’s face.  He knew where this was going and was certain this conversation would only end up badly if he didn’t interject.  “It’s fine Mick.  Let me get you a drink,” Ian said as he grabbed a beer glass.  He filled it up from the tap, his eyes never leaving Mickey’s face as he slid the glass over to him.  “On the house.”

“It’s always on the house,” Mickey responded through a huff, his concentration still on the brown haired dude who obviously admired Ian.  The guy caught a whiff of Mickey’s attitude, removing his elbows off the bar as he got out of his relaxed pose.

“Just a regular who appreciates what he used to do, that’s all” the guy responded, turning his angle towards Mickey.

“No shit,” Mickey scoffed.  He took a gulp of his beer, slamming it down too hard to be casual.

“Hey man, you’re the one who’s been watching red here from the shadows for the past forty or so minutes.”

Mickey smiled something devilish, the way he always did right before someone got hit.  He gripped his beer tighter, keeping his hand from involuntarily flying towards the guy’s face.  “Really?  And _red_?”  Mickey sneered, his temper heating.

“Yup.  And you were right over there.”  Mickey’s eyes followed the guy’s hand as he motioned towards a group of cocktail tables behind the banister that separated them from the dance floor.  He laughed to himself then turned and shot a harsh glance back at the jerk.  What the fuck, was he checking him?  It wouldn’t be the first time, his presence always seeming to be a threat.  It was as if people automatically drew the connection between him and Ian.

 

_“I’m on my way,” Mickey said to Ian through the phone as he walked out of the Alibi._

_Ian didn’t answer right away.  Instead, there was some shuffling in the background, the sound of a few things being thrown on a table or some sort of hard surface.  Mickey waited a few more moments, giving him a chance to respond before his patience ran short._

_“Ay, you listenin’?” Mickey snapped into the phone._

_“Oh, uh, yeah,” Ian finally answered, the shuffling picking up in the background.  His attention had already been off for the past month, but it seemed to be getting worse._

_“The fuck are you doin’?” Mickey asked._

_“Oh sorry Mick.  Getting changed right now.  Gotta dance in fifteen.”_

_“Ok, I’ll come by and waive or some shit so you can know I’m there.”_

_“You don’t have to.  Just sit, relax, enjoy the show.”  Ian could hear Mickey raising an eyebrow through the phone._

_“How the fuck will you know I’m there?  Fairytale is a madhouse on Friday nights.”_

_“I’ll find you,” Ian responded.  Mickey paused before opening his mouth to refute Ian’s logic before the red head beat him to the punch.  “Don’t worry, I will.  Gotta go Mick.”_

_Mickey arrived at Fariytale twenty minutes later, finding a table hidden in the corner.  Despite his inner protests, he did just as his boyfriend had requested, sat down, and enjoyed the show.  He ordered a shot from the cocktail waiter, as he caught a flash of red in the middle of the floor.  The way Ian moved made others move, and as different men tossed dollar bills at him, their eyes scanning over every inch of his chiseled body, Mickey felt his eye twitch with jealousy.  But Ian couldn’t see the jealous streak that covered his face as he lost himself to the music, his energy contagious and his gold shorts fitting just right.  Men moved trying to match their rhythms to his._

_Suddenly, watching the show became more like keeping tabs on the asses he had to kick now, taking names later.  The waiter came back with the shot of Jack, placing in front of Mickey.  He practically swiped the glass out of his hand before the glass touched the table.  He downed the shot, the burn in the back of his throat matching the burn in his gut.  His eyes zeroed in on Ian, his anger almost getting the best of him.  He wiped the sweat that collected above his brow, and just as he was about to bolt over to Ian as a man placed a bill too close to his crotch, the red head turned towards him._

_Ian’s eyes focused in the direction of the older boy, the look in them hitting Mickey like an arrow.  The black eyeliner around his eyes made the green stand out that much more in the colored lights, the seductive stare he gave Mickey making him feel sensations all over.  He mouthed the words “Found you,” as he continued to dance, a sexy smirk playing at his lips.  Mickey found himself biting down on his lips before he knew it._

_His eyes never left Ian as he danced, the younger boy doing the same as he put on a private show for him amongst all of the men that surrounded him.  And if it was possible, they were the only ones in the club.  Mickey watched Ian for what seemed like forever.  He was in a deep trance, snapping out of it only when the waiter slammed down another shot in front of him.  He hovered above Mickey for a moment, before looking out onto the floor towards Ian.  He turned back towards Mickey as he tucked his drink tray underneath his arm._

_“He with you?” the waiter said as he continued to look down at a melting mess of dark hair and blue eyes.  Mickey was caught off guard, snapping his head up as he scowled at the guy when he realized he was referring to Ian.   When he took note of the endearing expression on the guy’s face, and remembered he was someplace he didn’t have to hide, his face softened.  The guy meant no harm._

_“Yeah,” Mickey responded as he calmed down.  “How’d you know?”_

_“The way you both have been lookin’ at each other most of the night.  It’s in both of your eyes…they seem to find each other.”  The waiter smiled as he picked up the tip Mickey placed on the table.  He looked back on the floor at Ian who was now off of the platform he danced on, making his way to the bar.  Mickey watched him as he drank a glass of water, knowing the red head also had a thirst only he could satiate._

_So others seemed to always find them as well._

Mickey scowled at the guy, his messy brown hair pissing him off and the way he folded his arms so conceitedly making his fingers twitch.  The asshole needed to mind his business and not worry about where or why he sat where he did.

So this was Mickey’s routine.  He’d get off work, come to Fairytale, and sit at the same cocktail table tucked away in the corner as he waited for Ian to finish his shift.  He can’t say he enjoyed the way other men constantly flirted with him, his reputation always preceding him.  His blood always boiled as he scanned the assholes that would leave tips far too big for a bar tender, as they licked their lips and leaned in to whisper who the fuck knows to Ian as he would sling cocktails.  And God was he good at it – not just at making the drinks but the _act_ he would always put on, using his charm to get ten and twenty dollar bills left for him on the bar.  He’d bat his pretty lashes and flash that killer smile that never failed to make Mickey weak in the knees.  The other bartenders never touched anything bigger than a five dollar bill, knowing the big money was left for the red head.

_“Having a former dancer workin’ as a bartender just ain’t fair,”_ Julian, one of the other bartenders, would always jokingly complain.  And he was right.  The attention never diminished, despite the fact Ian was fully clothed now.  That shit got under Mickey’s skin.  But he was at least glad Ian had stopped dancing.  After a few months in the hospital, Ian finally came home and Mickey had begged him not to go back to Fairytale.  But Ian bitched about how the money was good and how they needed it to pay the leftover medical bills as he gave him the most puppy dog look.  So to keep the peace, they made a truce, Ian going back to working the bar instead, even though his boss practically got on bending knee to beg back his old headliner.  Mickey wasn’t having any of that shit.

Mickey took another sip of his beer, this time placing it down gingerly, which alarmed Ian.  “So what, you uh, sizin’ me up or somethin,?” Mickey asked as he rubbed the tip of his nose.  He usually never got this upset when men approached Ian, but something about this guy rubbed him the wrong way.

“Just sayin’ man.  You’ve been eyein’ red pretty hard.”

Mickey stood from his chair, getting close to the guy’s face, ensuring he’d get his point across.  “First off, _his_ name is Ian, not fuckin’ red.  Secondly, I can eye him as much as I want because _he_ is _mine._   He goes home with _me_ every night, so you can fuck off now.”  The guy flinched backwards as if shocked by what Mickey just said, subsequently standing up from his seat.  He put up both hands in surrender as he smirked, backing up.

“Hey, look.  Relax man.  Didn’t mean any disrespect and certainly did not know he was taken.”

“Now you know,” Mickey barked moving towards the guy more.

“But if you both ever want to, ya know,” he started as he took a few bills out of his pocket, placing them on the bar.  He dug in his other pocket, and removed a small, white card.  “Here’s my card,” he said with a wink.

Mickey’s face was on fire as he grabbed the card out of his hand, ripping it to shreds.  “Get the fuck on!” he screamed as the guy scurried away, disappearing into the crowd on the dance floor.  He turned around, catching Ian mid laugh as he collected his large tip.  “This shit funny to you?”

Ian leaned over the bar, grabbed Mickey by the back of his neck and placed a quick kiss on his lips.  Mickey’s face instantly softened at the contact.  “No, you are,” Ian said as he backed away slowly, biting his bottom lip.  He loved it when his boyfriend got jealous – it more than turned him on.

“Yeah, whatever,” Mickey said as he tried to stitch his grinning lips into a straight line.  Ian always knew how to make him smile, even when he didn’t want to.  The other bartender Julian then walked over to the twosome.

“Ian you’re shift ends in thirty.   I can finish up, so why don’t you uh, just take it easy with Mickey for the rest of the night,” Julian said as he looked cunningly at the couple. 

“You tryin’ to cut into his money?” Mickey scoffed as he eyed Julian.  The blonde laughed, Mickey’s unique charm something he was too used to. 

“No Mickey,” Julian began as he leaned against the bar.  “You two just look like you could use the rest of the night enjoying each other.”  Mickey rolled his eyes as Ian patted Julian on the shoulder.  He got the message.  Ian, Julian and Mickey had actually become friends when Ian still danced, even hanging out a lot after the bar closed.  Julian was one of those people who just made you feel comfortable, and eventually, he learned of Ian’s bipolar disorder from Mickey.  He’d had one too many after an argument with the erratic acting red head one night, spilling his guts before he realized it.  And that’s how Julian also began looking out for Ian when Mickey was too busy at the Alibi to keep an eye on him himself.  He even went with Mickey to visit Ian when he was in the hospital.

“Thanks,” Ian said as he gripped Julian’s shoulder. 

“No problem.  Go on, get.”  Ian walked around the bar until he approached Mickey.  He gripped the older boy’s bicep gently, something he was still getting used to but not too “gay” as he called holding hands, to make him uncomfortable.

They walked through the crowd of dancing men with the intention to leave.  Before they even got close to the exit, a song Ian used to do his best routine to came blaring over the airwaves.  He threw his head back, the way he did when a song he loved would start to play.  He smiled into the air as he closed his eyes, his body moving almost involuntarily as to the music.  After a moment of losing himself, he felt Mickey place his hand on his lower back, and Ian was almost certain that was him bringing him back down so they could hurry up and leave.

But instead of a glower, Ian was met by a look of admiration from his boyfriend.  “For old time’s sake?” Mickey asked as he led Ian to the middle of the dance floor.  Ian being caught off guard only lasted for a moment.  He knew Mickey had no intention of dancing with him, as it was something he rarely did.  But as he noticed that the dancers were now off of the platforms for the night, socializing with regulars and whatnot, Ian didn’t hesitate as he felt Mickey slightly push him up onto the raised area in the middle of the floor.

All eyes were suddenly on him, and for a short time he relived the nights when he would move to the beat as he made others move too.  He was getting better every day now, making strides with his disorder.  And although he would never go back to dancing, he could enjoy this for now.  Faces gathered around him as he gyrated his hips and moved his hands teasingly up and down his body, some of them familiar, others not so familiar.  

His eyes bounced from face to face as he turned to the music, before they automatically landed on the one he always seemed to find – _always_.

**Author's Note:**

> So this one shot is pretty spontaneous and unedited (I may go back through later and make minor edits, Idk). The title of this fic comes from the song "Find You" by Zedd (feat. Matthew Koma and Miriam Bryant). I've been listening to this song non-stop for the past week (both the original and acoustic), and there is something about Zedd's music that gives me Gallavich feels and makes me want to write. It's just a random thing I did based off of this scenario I got in my head where Ian still works at Fariytale after he gets out of the hospital and is recovering, but no longer dances, although he misses it. I hope that came across! I also highlighted his connection with Mickey throughout, who is the jealous boyfriend as usual, lol.
> 
> Well, hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading. :)


End file.
